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Salt

The Gushing Figures

Fletcher parked in front of my house, a dull structure with ripped boards at the foundation (due to our old family dog), and killed the engine. I looked at him.

In the orange glow, his complexion dazzled. He'd always been relatively handsome, but that was all in his genes.

"Thanks. I know you're across town and–"

He raised a hand. "Hey, stop. Anything for you, especially right now."

Right. Playing the empathy card, I get it. I mean, it's not like we've been friends for years.

I wanted to say that, but instead found my mouth going dry. I must have looked like a fish.

So I just presented him with a quick smile and jumped out. Walking up the porch steps, I gave my hair a pat down before I entered the house.

I was greeted to cold silence, which was unusual. As I hung up my jacket and kicked off my shoes, I pinpointed that my parents were in the kitchen, but I didn't call out to confirm.

Following the dimly light corridor, I emerged into the contrasting kitchen. With it's orange glow and white island, I'd temporarily forgotten how much of an eyesore it could be.

My parents were glaring frostily at each other, lips pursed as they waited for the other to speak up first.

Zoey was by the pantry doors, a newly lit cigarette between her lips. She brightened a little when she noticed me standing there, dumbfounded.

She must've known the question on my lips, because she shook her head before she stubbed out her poison.

The quiet continued, with the exception of my sister’s shoes clapping on the tiled floor. Before she shrugged past me, she laid a hand on my shoulder for a moment, squeezing only slightly.

My attention averted to my parents, standing and leaning a massive two meters away from each other. The black bags under my mother’s eyes were accented because of the harsh light of the room.

And she was using them to burrow knives into my dad’s figure, who just stood by the fridge, gaping at me.

“Ash, settle something for us, would you?” I internally sighed, as my mom rolled her eyes and faced the floor. “What is your sister really like at school?”

I blinked. “What?”

“I’m sure you’ll hear it from her eventually: Zoey had the nerve to bring her degenerate friends to the house to ingest some drugs. Did you know this, did you talk about this?” My dad phrased it as if the thought of it was ludicrous.

Loud, screaming music blasted from upstairs, as well as a lot of thumping. My only guess was that she was taking out her frustrations.

Zoey wasn’t exactly the picture perfect daughter that our parents wanted her to be. Instead of abiding by the rules, she looked for loopholes and did everything her own way… but everybody knew that. We Hawkins girls were opposites of each other.

I raked a hand through my hair, trying to find an excuse that could semi-please them.

“She’s fifteen, dad, she’s going to do whatever she feels like.”

That just set him off even more, with my mom stepping in to make him feel even worse, unintentionally. Well, at least I think it was unintentionally.

In the meantime, I lingered there, watching and listening to them insult each other at the top of their lungs. I guess it was a good thing that our closest neighbor was a few yards away, after all.

That just set him off even more, with my mom stepping in to make him feel even worse, unintentionally. Well, at least I think it was unintentionally.

In the meantime, I lingered there, watching and listening to them insult each other at the top of their lungs. I guess it was a good thing that our closest neighbor was a few yards away, after all.

So, I tuned into the noise of upstairs instead. With all the chaos surrounding me, I swayed my shoulders a little, dancing in the middle with the cold. My body still hadn’t caught up, as the ice refused to melt, so my rationale was that moving would generate all heat.

But ice caps don’t melt for a long time.

My mind wandered. Here, there, here; repeat. A vicious cycle that I mindlessly followed. Back into that pit. Back into a world of my own where being on my own didn’t have to be so lonely.

I alone felt the freezing cold.

“Ashley.”

I shook my head, temporarily brought out of my head to catch my mom and dad eyeing me, looking at me as if I’d just spoke out of turn.

“Did you say something?”

“Are you sure you stayed at Lu’s last night?”

I scrambled for words, knowing I had to tell them the truth. They were going to find out eventually, best they hear it from me first, right?

But the expectation they expected wasn’t met, and I began to stammer.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” I honestly was a terrible liar. I pocketed my hands.

“Then why are you wearing Jesse’s shirt?” The sharp pique of my mother’s brow challenged me, as she finally used it on someone else for a change. The slow folding of her arms normally would have crippled me.

But for today, somehow it didn’t match up with the rest.

“Did you stay at his?”

“What?” This was ridiculous! I thought they were arguing about Zoey.

“Answer your mother, Ashley.”

I heard myself scoff. I mean, I was twenty-one years old, not a teenager like the girl curled up in her room. I was an adult, so why call on me like that?

Although I already knew that answer, I found out that it was my turn to scowl.

“No, I didn’t.”

I was done with this. Turning on my heel, I went to exit the kitchen. Possibly to join my sister in some serious brooding, who knows?

“We’re not trying to attack you, but don’t you dare lie right to our faces! If you and Jesse are back together, we would rather you be honest with us.” My father had moved further from his resting place, in a means to try and catch me before I stormed into the hallway.

I whipped back around, facing them with a steely jaw.

As far as anyone was concerned, my business was my own and they had zero right in intruding on that. Of course, they wouldn’t take me at my word, because why would they? I was their daughter and apparently I found it so easy to manipulate and deceive them. How fucking perfect.

I wanted to point out how much their words were bullshit. Because, as far as I recall, they couldn’t even be honest with themselves.

Hypocrites, the both of them.

And so, I just shook it off and trotted up the stairs, to the familiarity of my room. In the meantime, wondering where my plan had all gone wrong.

In a momentarily lapse, I text Jesse asking if he was free for me to come round.

Even quicker, I got a response.